Happiness. It's relative.
Every morning this week has been a test of my ability to find the narrow passageway between two indecisive people that will lead me to the coffee, then to the creamer, then to the cereal or waffle or yogurt or whatever else the free… Continue Reading “More Coffee?”
This is the story of a magical day – a sterling day, so perfect that it could only have been a crafted, scripted waking dream. The gods created it, I’m sure, as a gift for our strained family and the troubled times we had… Continue Reading “Home Field”
The theology of adoption has a thick ribbon of rescue running through it. To rescue a child in dire straits is heroic. No doubt about it, children who are available for adoption, those beautiful little faces you see on the adoption web pages and… Continue Reading “If This, Then That: Reflections on Adoption”
I don’t give advice to adoptive parents. I don’t tell them what I know or even what I suspect. I keep my mouth shut. It used to be that I figured their experiences would be different and, indeed, everyone’s experiences are different. Easy or… Continue Reading “Find Her: A Reflection on Lion”
Flor de Cana is Nicaraguan rum. I’m not a connoisseur of rum. I only drink this rum. Because it is Nicaraguan. I remember being in Managua, sitting in the courtyard of Casa Bolonia, a squat, sprawling hotel where plywood had been used to make… Continue Reading “Straight with Many Limes”
I don’t give advice to adoptive parents. I don’t tell them what I know or even what I suspect. I keep my mouth shut. It used to be that I figured their experiences would be different and, indeed, everyone’s experiences are different. Easy or… Continue Reading “Find Her: A Reflection on Lion”
“Your daughter says your family has more conflict than average.” It’s wasn’t my first IEP meeting*. I knew the drill. But it was the first IEP meeting for this child who at the time was a 13-year old going into 8th grade.And it was the first… Continue Reading “Hard Truth”
I thought I’d found my son’s mother. She had the right name. She was about the right age. She was born in his country. And she looked like him. I enlarged the photos of her on Facebook, studied her face. She was stocky like… Continue Reading “Finding My Son’s Mother: Not My Riddle to Solve”
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